Bond Between Two Branded
by IWriteThingsOccasionally
Summary: Soren and Micaiah... they meet on the battlefield, and something connects. When they meet again, alone, some sort of bond is formed, one that neither of them understand. Soren/Micaiah, rated T for detailed romance description, but nothing sexual.


In the midst of Begnion, on the shores of a river, a girl stood.

A simple girl as far as eyes could tell, wearing a form fitting pink top lined in red, extending down to her mid thighs as part skirt, skin tight black pants, comfortable tan boots, and a blue cape with a ruby brooch.

Her silver hair flowed to the sides of her pure face, blue ribbons tying back a portion of it, and her hazel eyes shining as she stared across to the other bank.

She was an attractive girl, a fair maiden, but nothing all to special as far as appearances could tell.

However, on the inside, this girl was far more. She was a brave hero, a sage of light, and a leader of a country, responsible for that same country's liberation.

Under the orders of her king, she faced her opponents in a war that raged on in the shallows and islands of the river, their entire mission to prevent them from crossing.

At the back of her lines, she ordered soldiers and took actions based on Sothe's advice on all of the Greil Mercenaries, known as some of the world's greatest fighters that faced them now.

She had faith, though, that Daein would prevail. The laguz had failed the night before, and this would be their last chance to cross the river before the central army of Begnion caught up to them.

Her soldiers faced them, and the Mercenaries inevitably reached them.

Nolan and Aran fought against opponents of equal caliber, colliding with a forest green haired warrior and a helmeted halberdier with flowing sea green hair of her own.

A swordmaster, clad in a fitting red top with black sleeves and leggings, faced off against Zihark, lightning fast blades and sparks flying everywhere, her wo dao against his killing edge.

Edward and Leonardo continued to hold the line, Edward diving about striking down the enemy infantry that got through, and Leonardo continuing to pick off hawks in the air, Volug tearing the throats off of beorc that they could not stop, and catching hawks that passed Leonardo midair in his jaws.

The battle forces where evenly matched for a time, and then an arrow struck Leonardo dead in the heart from the other side of the river, the expert kill coming from an expert sniper, red hair tied back in a ponytail, who had made the shot with a devastating bow she had never seen before.

"Silencer! Shinon's trademark weapon! We're lucky he isn't dead already!" Sothe shouted. "Laura! Get over here, Leonardo needs help, fast!"

Another was fired, and Sothe sidestepped it, leaving Micaiah to nimbly dodge it with a twirl, the arrow slicing clean through some of her hair. It would have hit her dead in the eyes.

That was the first break in their lines. Suddenly, a blue clad general was assisting the mercenaries in their battles against Nolan and Aran. Fiona could not cross the water, and Meg was not enough to even the line.

Then, there was a second break in their defenses. A huge cloud formed in the sky, and thunder rained down upon Jill, conducting clean through her armor, seeping beneath the scales of her wyvern and frying its flesh. She and her mount toppled to the sky beneath the unbelievable power of thoron.

She cast turned with her physic staff raised, but a black clad enemy wyvern rider landed beside her. She cast an El Light spell down at him, and he pulled her out of the way.

He smacked Jill across the face- how could he beat a downed woman? Wait... no. He only gave her a wake up slap. Jill stared him in the eyes, and he pulled up his visor. A quick conversation, and she willingly joined him on his wyvern, the two flying back to the enemy controlled side.

Losing men left and right, and now betrayal was added to the mix. What was next?

Desperately, Micaiah cast her thani tome on the navy armored general, buying Aran and Nolan some time, then turned and cast an El Light spell at a blonde female rogue, clad in purple and blue that mocked and nimbly dodged the generals at their lines, slowly but surely whittling away at their armor.

A hawk flew down and whisked her upwards to dodge the spell, then she flipped and dropped, putting a steel dagger through the helmets of one of their generals, directly striking his brain, and dropping him to the ground dead.

Their defensive lines were collapsing, and the enemy was upon them directly.

Suddenly, Micaiah's eyes met another opponent's.

Despite all the chaos around them, he was all she could see. They stared at one another, hazel orbs into rubies, and they each held their tome ready.

Neither of them raised their hand to attack.

She could tell, that he, too, was of the same kind of her. That he possessed a mark.

She spoke to him, a mere 15 feet away. Miraculously, he could hear her over the battlefield.

"Please, meet me here tonight!"

Then she saw him scoff, and swing his arm up and to his side.

Wind gathered all around before she had a chance to use her own magic, and she heard it flow, the deadly blades that the air could make forming.

The sharp green edges of gale appeared, distinct sharp fronts charged her in a spiral formation.

Sothe ran in and shoved her out of the way.

"Micaiah!"

"Huh? Sothe?"

"Snap out of it, Micaiah! Soren almost tore you to shreds! This is the seventh time I've called you!"

"What's wrong, Sothe? Why are you so angry?"

"I'm not angry, I'm desperate! The laguz armies are here!"

"Well, yes, Sothe, they've been here, what are you trying to-"

"No, the entirety of the laguz alliance is attacking us from behind!"

"How did the beasts cross the river?"

"There are hundreds of hawks as well!"

"I knew we were fighting Phoenicis in small platoons, but when did their entire army deploy?"

"I don't know, but we've got to go!"

She stood up, and yelled a final yell.

"Retreat!"

Soren watched, and saw that oh so peculiar girl run over the hills, the rest of her army following suit.

~*~*~* Later that night, in the Laguz Alliance camp *~*~*~

Finishing the touches on his map, Soren drew the final blue line signifying their progress across the Ribahn, and marked a blue X where they currently camped.

Picking his book "Anima Magic: Wind Level XIV" back up, he continued to read.

Perhaps at this rate, he would be able to create his own tomes. His ancient language had been mastered a fair while ago, and he was nearly on the fifteenth wind magic level.

Still, each word was somehow dull.

In the first time in forever, he was not in a reading mood this night, and so he shut his book and tossed it over onto his pile of literature and tomes he kept in his tent.

His gas lamp shone a dim light across his tent, the flame flickering.

He checked his clock. It was 1:42 in the morning. It was not a celebratory night; no doubt everybody other than the watchmen had gone to bed.

He could not stop thinking about what that girl had said.

_"Please, meet me here tonight!"_

He had senses, the same spirit as her. He knew that she was branded, Micaiah, the silver haired maiden. But what did she want with him?

He did not know what made him bored in his own tent he could normally have lived his entire life in, or what compelled him to do as she had requested, but he went ahead and threw his blankets off of him, got up off of the other blankets folded and organized as his bed, then picked his lantern up off of his night stand and left his tent, which darkened behind him.

He walked across the campsite, through the tent city, seeing the lights of every other tent off, as he had predicted. Approaching the edge of the camp, he saw Boyd asleep and Mia still keeping watch.

"Soren? It's almost 2 AM, and you're not on guard duty tonight anyways."

"I'm going out."

"What do you mean? Where are you-"

"Out."

He hated nosy people. Unfortunately, most of the world was nosy. He truly did wish that he could just have his intentions not questioned by anybody, and do as he pleased.

Almost an hour later, nearly three o'clock, he trudged through the forest, pulling his boot out of yet another mud pit, shaking his leg off and cursing.

"Why am I doing this?"

His voice was heard by his target, who peaked her head around the hill.

"You came."

Well, she was actually here. That was a start.

"Yes, yes I did, and I have no idea why. So, you've got me here, what do you want?"

"I wanted to talk."

"To talk?" Was she joking? She dragged him miles through a disgusting muddy bare-leaved forest filled with water and rotting wood to TALK?

"THAT'S IT?" He asked, incredulous.

"I... Well... yes."

"Idiotic girl!"

He turned his cape as he spun on one foot, and prepared to storm off, but she grabbed his arm. Surprisingly, he did not jerk out of her grasp, but instead turned around and looked her in the eyes.

He was not one to pay any attention to emotion, but her eyes looked almost as if she needed him, a stranger she had just met today.

"Please stay."

He closed his eyes, and decided that if he did as she desired, he could at least put off having to walk back through that forest.

"Fine, I'll talk with you."

The rational part of his mind screamed 'No, get out of here!' as he walked over and sat down next to her on a log.

There was a long silence before she began their conversation.

"What's your name?"

"Soren."

"Soren... I like it. That's a very nice name."

He did not thank her.

"So, you're the priestess of dawn, are you?"

"Soren, call me Micaiah."

"Are we so informal now?"

"I want to have a discussion, and I'm certainly not going to address you as 'Greil Mercenaries Tactician', so don't call me 'Priestess of Dawn'. Please. I'm nowhere close to fond of the name, in fact, I really dislike it. So please, Micaiah."

"All right then, Micaiah... how do you know who I am?"

"Sothe has only told me you're the tactician. Didn't even know your name because he just pointed you out on the battlefield. I never needed to know of your group personally, but he told me what I needed to know for battle. That you were the tactician, a genius in that regard, and a masterful wind sage."

"Well, Sothe just picked that up from being in the group. I never talked to him much at all. We only allowed him aboard because he was a free picker of locks and stealer of items, unlike our assassin who charged 50 gold for each chest and door."

"..."

"Sothe was a fair unit. Of course, he was not an assassin trained for greater than twenty years as Volke, but he was free, and he offered a rogue type of unit rather than only a killer who preformed a lock picking service for ever more money."

"..."

"You are very close to him, are you not?"

"Did he tell you? I thought you didn't interact."

"We didn't. I did keep files on every member of the group. If somebody else found something about him, they'd tell me. We had to always make sure our group was as clean as it could be, and to weed out the weak links and traitors. Sothe was not one of those, but I was able to learn that he had stowed away on our ship in an attempt to find someone very special to him. I assumed he meant you, since that was who he is with now."

"Well, yes, I am that someone. Sothe is like a brother to me. I first met him in the back alleys of Nevassa. He was a small thief, and he wanted my food. He had a knife in hand, but I could tell he was not a killer, and so I took him in as though he was a younger sibling. We lived together, and everything we did was together. We grew very close."

"..."

"But, I feared. Every day he grew larger, closer to my size, and became more of an older brother than a younger one. He fended for himself, and did not depend on me. I knew eventually he would figure out that he was growing older, and I was not. So I ran."

"Ran, because of your brand?"

"You and I each carry the mark." She rolled down her right sleeve, and pulled off one of her maroon gloves, revealing a complex pattern etched onto the skin on the back of her right hand.

"Correct. We each have blood of two races within us." He said with anger at the fact.

"So, on your forehead... How have you hidden yourself?"

"It is lucky that a branded being receives special abilities. Mine is a powerful mind, a talent for magic. The public knows me as a spirit charmer, with a natural extraordinary talent for magic, chosen by as a host by a mystical being when I was born, a supernatural contract."

"This brand is such an interesting thing... a blessing and a curse. We are given such power, such incredible abilities, we live longer, and we are a stronger race than many… stronger than beorc or laguz, at the end of the day. Truly, this cross breed is an amazing thing, and we are a much more perfect race. I know it is arrogant of me to say, but it is, I believe, the truth, and I do not fear mentioning it to one under the same fate as myself. There is, however, as I said, a curse that comes with it. That the public views the true love and the mating of a beorc and a laguz as a sin condemned by the goddess, and that the public does not see us as perfect beings, but as terrible abominations."

"... Indeed. I could almost agree that we are superior to all others, if I did not have a select few beorc I held respect for. Unfortunately for you and for I, the curse is the only part others acknowledge. There is blood very similar to yours within me, blood that teaches you and I what it truly means to be alone. Blood that weighs us down and reminds us day by day with it's mark upon our skin that if the world knew the truth of us, they would turn away and never look back."

He clenched his hand tightly, and she saw him bite his lip. She saw the slightest hint of pain on his face, and his fist grew tighter, his skin turning white. He opened his palm, and his fingernails had cut into him, a shallow pool of his blood developing in his palm.

"This blood... filled with all that normal veins and arteries are..."

He hissed, drawing up saliva from his throat and into his mouth, then spit into the same pool.

"But this blood, tainted. Filled too with a solution of stinging rejection and ice."

He shook the blood off of his hand, then took out a vulnerary, administered it to the wound, and calmly wrapped a bandage around it.

"This brand should bring power, talent, and joy... but it is meaningless... because it brings so much sorrow and pain with all of its gifts."

"Because..."

"Hm?"

"Because of the brand, which can bring pain and sorrow as you say, I feared that Sothe, who I loved as a part of my family, who was a part of my family, would not accept me when he learned the truth. I feared he would act as the people you describe, as the vast majority of our world. So I fled. I ran across the world, as far from him as I could imagine going. He went out to get us bread, and I packed my things and ran. I left him half of our savings, took the rest for myself. I spent just a few select gold pieces to buy a ticket, and took a ship to the farthest destination."

"..."

"I returned to Daein quickly, regretting my decision immediately after leaving. When I returned home, he had already gone. After the war ended, and we lost, I left home and waited for him in the same alley we met every day. After many weeks, he showed up, even more grown than I could have imagined."

"..."

"I told him my secret, told him everything, and told him all of my fears. I broke down crying, only worried that I would lose a part of my family. From that day forth, he vowed to protect me."

Soren chuckled a cold chuckle.

"What?"

"Your experiences are so... happy."

"What? I tell you a tale of rejection, and fear, and- happy?"

"I only wish I could have lived such a life until now, Micaiah. Were you raised by your birth parents?"

"No. The woman who raised me did so until I could take care of myself. When I left her, she told me what the brand was, what it meant, and gave me a pair of black fingerless gloves, telling me to wear them always to hide it."

"Ha... your tale is still one of such joy. You know enough to know that we are cursed, but you are ignorant to how bad things can really be, aren't you?"

"I-"

"The woman who raised me was not my birth mother. And she wasn't all that fond of me, anyway... My earliest memories are of her saying, "Why me? The world isn't fair!" or "Stay away from me, child!" No love. No affection. She took care of me out of some sense of duty that she didn't really possess.

"..."

"When I was about four, a nearby sage came by and asked to take me in. He said I possessed rare magical talent. I remember the day clearly. My caretaker was delighted to give me up. In fact, she seemed almost delirious with pleasure. Smiling like a madwoman as she handed me over... The sage even gave her gold as compensation. Not that it was necessary. The sage was old, and knew that death would soon come for him. His only goal was to teach his art to an apprentice. As time was short, he put me through terribly rigorous magic training. We worked day and night, without cease. I didn't even have time to think about who I really was. But it was still a better life than I had ever known. When the sage died two years later, I had acquired much magical skill. Perhaps too much for a child of my age..."

Micaiah was shocked. Truly, she did not know the worst.

"At any rate, once I had eaten all of the food in the sage's hovel, I left and walked for days to find help. Upon reaching civilization, I came to another grim realization... I couldn't speak. Not a word."

"How in the goddesses name-"

"Oh, I could read and write better than most of the villagers. And I could understand what they said. I just couldn't talk. I couldn't help it. The woman and the sage both used to hurl words at me. Unkind words, usually. But I never needed to answer. We the sage died, no one would help me. I couldn't speak, couldn't find food... Ike was the only one that helped. A large oak tree in a clearing, I had sleeping in a small alcove by the roots, probably an abandoned animal den large enough for me, enough to shelter me from the rains. Ike came by one day, just a child wandering through the village alone. At the edge of the forest, he found me lying against the tree, starving to death and wearing my pathetic rags. He handed me his lunch. I was suspicious at first, but eventually I devoured the entire thing. He had no more food with him, so he kept telling me to come back to his house so he could feed me, and I kept shaking me head no.

"Why did you-"

"I was afraid he was going to trick me. Afraid that he was going to taunt me with food and then chase me away, just for a laugh... Finally, he told me he would just bring me some food the next day at the same time and place. So, I nodded to that. I was happy, not just because I wasn't hungry anymore, but because somebody would finally talk to me. So I went back to the village the next day. Despite fearing the villagers who called me an animal and a devil, and beat me with sticks and stones, I still went back. The food was worth it, the friendship was worth it. But on the next day, the village was littered with corpses."

Her eyes grew wide, but she did not interrupt him.

"Ike's father had gripped Lehran's medallion. The spirit of chaos in that medallion drove him crazy, and this unstoppable soldier went on a rampage across the village, killing everything. Nobody else was a match for him. Ike's mother, in a desperate effort to stop him, ran towards him in the midst of his rage, running onto his sword, impaling her through the gut, just so she could embrace him, so that she could give him a final hug, and separate him from the medallion. She succeeded. I arrived at the village after all of the chaos, and checked all of the bodies, to see if Ike was dead. But I couldn't find him. I decided that he had to be alive, and I ran through all the houses of the dead families, taking all of their food and money, getting several pairs of clothes and shoes, and then headed for Crimea, a land of beorcs."

She continued to listen to him, continuously in awe.

"I was in a healthy condition for my journey. I had huge amounts of money, the riches of all the dead villagers put together. I could not carry luxuries, but I was able to carry a tent I had gotten from one of the houses, all of the cash I had obtained, two spare pairs of clothes, and my rations by purchasing a travel bag from a wandering merchant caravan. It was a tiring trip, but it didn't matter in the slightest; I was feeling better than I had in months."

He sighed, and his face grew cold and solemn.

"And then, the laguz. On my way to Crimea, I kept seeing Laguz from the beast tribe. They were terrifying. But after a while, I realized something. They never attacked me. They all seemed to notice something about me, and then they pretend like they couldn't see me. That look was burned into my mind, and it was always the same. They'd scowl at me, and then walk away like they'd never noticed me. In a way, that left me feeling colder and more alone than if they'd attacked me. Hate... that I could understand... this was denial. They made me feel like I wasn't supposed to exist at all. That my simply being alive was an affront to the world. That was how the beasts treated me... and I hated them for it. It sat in my heart like a lead bar. Like a glacier."

Still, she said nothing, and listened to his tale.

"When I reached Crimea, I took refuge in a church along the way. They took my brand to be sign that I had been trained in the arcane arts. They took good care of me, and taught me things. Once I had learned to speak and behave like other people, I wandered Crimea for several years. Then I finally found Ike. The only person who held out a warm hand when I had nothing. The rest is history. Joining the mercenaries, becoming their tactician, and everything Sothe told you from there."

"I... can't believe it."

"Yes, you've had quite a simple life. Not as lucky as the average beorc, to be sure, but at least you were never a day away from death."

"Even so, you and I are very similar. We've both faced trials due to our band, we both understand our brand, we both have special talents and abilities..."

He listened. Perhaps there was something to her words.

"...we're both mages... The list goes on and on. Perhaps the biggest similarity is being accepted by one person, and finding a place in life because of that. You have Ike and the Greil Mercenaries, I have Sothe and the Dawn Brigade."

He shocked himself at how close they were, looking at the log they sat on, the feet had become inches. Micaiah seemed to have not noticed either. Her voice, yet again, pulled him from his thoughts as it rang through the damp and foggy night.

"How old are you, Soren?"

"Twenty three. You?"

"Twenty five, today."

"Hm. Happy birthday."

She cracked a smile, which caused Soren to smile as well.

"Thank you. It's just, we both look about 18, so I was... curious."

Discussion of appearances, and how they could relate. It was strange, but Soren could relate to her. She could make him smile, after all, a rarity in and of itself.

Maybe their thoughts were shared. He found himself scooting towards her even more, and she neared him also. Her warm hip pressed against his. Hardly any physical contact, not intimate in the slightest, but even to make them turn away, and enough to flush Micaiah's face pink.

Strangely enough, neither of them did anything about it.

Soren was solemn person, stone-faced, practical, and cynical... but as he thought back, something had instructed him to come here, and to speak with Micaiah tonight. Something had prompted him to share with her. Something had made him tell his experiences to her in even more detail than Ike, the one he trusted most.

Something...

It was not that they relate, he knew. They did relate, they were very similar. Maybe, they were meant to be.

His thoughts shocked him. Did he have actual feelings for this girl?

... He could put her down in his mind, thinking of her as 'this girl', but he couldn't say such things to her face. He, a person who didn't care for the thoughts of others, a man who upheld a strict policy of brutal honesty, saying what he thought when he thought it, couldn't insult a simple girl?

No, more than a simple girl... he could not insult Micaiah.

He did wonder though, if his research was not enough to know her, as it was for most, could maybe have legitimately meeting her in reality, could battling her today and speaking to her tonight, truly have caused him to develop legitimate feelings for Micaiah?

Doubt struck him from the back of his mind. No, he couldn't possibly have feelings for her- but it was a hypothesis an analytical mind such as his own had to test. He had to ask what was on his mind.

"Micaiah."

"Soren?"

"Do you love Sothe?"

"Well, yes he's a part of-"

"No, like, love him?"

"No, not romantically. No..."

She was not in a relationship. Not with Sothe, and since she always near him, there couldn't be anybody closer to her. If she wasn't 'taken', to use such a typical phrase...

Such a powerful impulse. An action his body suddenly felt necessary. Soren was close to the opposite of impulsive, always rational and thinking about whatever he did before he did it. But this was an impulse he could not fight.

"... why do you a-"

He slipped his arm around her upper back in an instant, his other arm reaching around her waist, and he cut her off, covering her lips with his own.

It was warm, incredible, something neither of the two had ever truly felt. Micaiah's shocked face slowly faded, and she melted into the kiss, closing her eyes, draping her arms around his neck, and slowly slipping her legs up, climbing onto his lap.

They pushed their tongues into the mouth of their partner, exploring their mouths, the two mouth muscles circling each other as they licked one another and traded saliva.

The two lay down across the log, kissing and dragging their hands across each other. Micaiah across Soren's back, while Soren felt her curves and dragged his hands through her silky smooth hair, pulling the ribbons that halted the path of his fingers out and continuing to stroke her.

Their kiss was deep and passionate, sudden yet powerful. After their lips had locked for minutes on end, they separated for desperate need of oxygen, breathing heavily.

Beneath him, she looked up into his eyes.

"S-Soren, why?" She said, her face the same shade of pale pink as her tunic like top. Soren slipped off of her, and the two both sat back up, without any sort of physical contact.

"Honestly? I'm not sure. It seems love is something even your foresight can't predict, Micaiah."

She sighed in response.

"Perhaps not."

He closed his eyes, and sighed. He picked up his lantern with one hand, turned to walk away.

"Soren..."

"Yes?"

"... Will I ever see you again?"

"Well, this war is far from over. Naturally, I assume so. If your question is whether or not you will see me like this, I am unaware. I must wear a different face on the battlefield, and we might not be alone for quite some time."

She stood up, and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Then, for now, one last kiss."

The each held each other tightly, and the two locked their lips again. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was filled with emotion. They parted, and stared at each other for half a minute longer, before finally Soren removed Micaiah's hands from his shoulders, and took one of them into both of his hands.

"I have to go now." He placed her arms back at her side, and walked away. He wanted to stay and kiss her forever, but unfortunately, he could not. One final time, her voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Good night, Soren."

"Good night, Micaiah."

Then the raven-haired, ruby-eyed mage, clad in ebon robes, walked off into the forest again, the fog quickly concealing the light of his lantern. The last sound she heard signifying his presence was the soft squishy sounds of the marsh weeds before he reached the solid grassy hills of the woods, and vanished, leaving just a few faint footprints and his essence on her lips as evidence of his visit.

"Goodbye, Soren. May we meet again." She spoke out, though nobody could hear her.

Micaiah picked up her own lantern, and walked up the hill, and back to the Daein encampment not far from the Ribahn, and the spot where their souls had bonded tonight was left entirely deserted and dark.


End file.
